


The Taking Matters into Your Own Hands Affair

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“At a very unpleasant cost I am afraid.”  Her hands were busy with her throbe, brushing the fabric of the traditional garment nervously.</p><p>“And that would be… you?” Napoleon knew that women were bartered here with less flourish than cattle.   </p><p>She nodded and looked about to burst into tears…  “And you are to entertainment for the wedding festivities.”</p><p>“I somehow get the impression they aren’t interested in our singing and dancing,” Napoleon said to his partner and Illya sighed, resting his head against the bars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taking Matters into Your Own Hands Affair

The atmosphere in the small room was fraught with tension; the two men reflected in the high gloss of the central table’s finish, while very different in appearance, were yet similar in the deadly seriousness of their expressions.   
  
The older of the two men - gray haired, dark-eyed, of deep and swarthy complexion - was also the more nervous, fidgeting first with necktie and then with cuffs, clearing his throat repeatedly. The other man was younger, handsome with a rare and darkling masculine beauty: completely at ease, leaning back in his chair expansively, his long legs gracefully composed as though for a professional portrait.   
  
“I cannot say that your offer does not interest me, Mr. Khan.” The older man polished the lenses of his glasses on the sleeve of his suit jacket with an air of concentration. “The question of my daughter raises some concerns, as I am sure you are aware.”   
  
The younger nodded, frowning. “Of course, as a loving father, Mr. Al’Basraji, you will want some assurance for her well-being.”   
  
The older man raised heavy brows. “Call me Oded, please. But you misunderstand me. I would be only too grateful, indeed honored for her to become one of your wives. But I cannot guarantee…” his voice trailed off delicately.   
  
“Ah.” Mr. Khan gave a nod. “You do not know whether she is… untouched.” He smiled humorlessly. “I think, you know, she is. There is a look of innocence that is not easily achieved without truth behind it.” He crossed his ankles, straightening the crease of his trousers with a finicky movement. “But surely that is easily determined – a short visit to a doctor would establish it.”   
  
His companion gave him an uneasy glance. “I can confirm that her… maidenhead is no longer intact, unfortunately. We have had her examined before. But there is no way to know if she has lain with a man, or…” His leathery cheeks flushed unpleasantly. “Or if she has done it herself,” he muttered quietly, a wary eye on the brace of guards by the door. “I understand there are ways.”   
  
Khan considered this. “I see. There have been other offers of marriage, and she was unhappy with your choices.”   
  
“Sofia is a headstrong, willful girl. She needs the strong hand of a man to train her properly. Her mother was an American,” the older man added apologetically.   
  
“Indeed?” Khan sounded less than pleased, and Al’Basraji, recognizing his potential blunder, hastened to backtrack.   
  
“Naturally she is more than capable of fulfilling the duties of a wife; and indeed, one would want a woman of passion to bring to heel, rather than a milk-and-water miss. Her physical beauty is unparalleled …”   
  
Khan lifted a hand, cutting off the flow of words. “Possibly true, but almost entirely beside the point if she is used goods.” He thought for a moment. “I do not consider the use of a false phallus in that light, however; it might even prove an entertaining habit, in the long run. But the intrusion of another man into my property is something that I will not countenance; therefore this must be definitively determined before we go any further.” He gave what would otherwise have been a charming smile. “Fortunately, THRUSH science is able to succeed where modern medicine fails; by measuring the acidity and alkalinity of fluids in the womb, we can easily detect whether another has ventured where only I should have the right to be. So!” He clapped both hands on the arms of his chair and got lithely to his feet. “First thing in the morning we will test the lovely Sofia to establish her suitability, after which we will arrange the delivery of THRUSH weaponry and support to your northern border for a nominal fee. You will come under my protection; that is to say, the protection of THRUSH.”   
  
The older man cleared his throat nervously. “And if she proves to be unsuitable?”   
  
Khan straightened his tie and patted his hair into place. “In that case, our deal stands, but my fee will be much less nominal.”   
  
“And the two UNCLE agents?”   
  
“They are the least of my worries. If tomorrow morning is auspicious, let their executions be the entertainment at the wedding feast. If not,” Khan shrugged eloquently. “A simple shot to the head should suffice. Are we agreed?”   
  
Oded clasped Khan by the forearm. “We are.”   
  
Outside the door, Sofia weighed the keys she held in her hand. Napoleon Solo had looked at her with masculine interest upon his capture; interest and yes, kindness. Perhaps when she freed Solo and his partner, the handsome agent would be willing to help her with this… situation.   
  
She walked silently but with confidence through the shadowed halls of her father’s keep; confidence, she had found, being the best weapon against the suspicions of her father’s newly acquired THRUSH minions.   
  
Men generally found her attractive, Sofia knew; had she not had an inherent aversion to being sold like chattel, she could have been married years ago. That had never been her aim, however, and so she had… taken steps to make herself undesirable to her father’s acquaintances. But now it seemed this Mr. Khan had the ability to see through Sofia’s ruse.   
  
Surely agent Solo would not be averse to… helping her. Judging from the interest in his dark eyes, he might even make the experience pleasurable. Certainly she felt an answering spark when she gazed at him, though allowing her father to see it would have spelled destruction for all of them without delay.   
  
Still, one never knew what another’s sense of honor might demand. There might be a wife somewhere, or a lover. If she had misread Solo, if the dark-haired agent was not amenable, Sofia knew she would not stoop so low as to trade for their freedom. That was a commodity hard enough to come by that she could not use it for bait. She would release the UNCLE agents, and Solo… he must take her of his own free will. Anything else would make her no better than the men she sought to escape.   
  
Sofia shook her head to clear it, determination setting her delicate jaw. She would find a way to the next world before she would allow her father to sell her, as he had bought her mother so many years ago. There was nothing else for it: she needed Napoleon Solo to deflower her, tonight and thoroughly, or she would be lost in Khan’s harem and subject to his will, never to see freedom again.

 

Illya Kuryakin glanced over from his spot at the barred window as there was a rattle at the door.  It couldn’t be their supper for they’d already been fed.  Without sunlight, their cell was dark and shadow lined.

He moved swiftly into position, ready to spring upon the unwary guard who might blunder into their cell.  The body he grabbed was pliable and certainly better smelling than the guards he’d fought earlier in the day.  He carried the body down to the floor, grunting as an elbow found its way to his midsection.

Abruptly, there was another pair of hands on him, tugging him back.

“Illya!” Napoleon’s voice caught him and he released his quarry.  Then he saw that he’d not tackled a guard, but a young lady.  She scrambled to the far side of their cell, her eyes wide with fear.

“Sorry,” Illya apologized, dusting the straw from the knees of his pants.  “Obviously I thought you were someone else.”

“Or you Americans have an odd way of greeting people,” she snapped righting her throbe.  She turned her face to hide the fact that she was embarrassed.

“He’s Russian,” Napoleon corrected with an apologetic smile.  “And you are…Sofia.” To his partner.   “Al’Basraji’s daughter… ah, Sofia?”  He smiled back at the girl as she nodded.  “I saw you when we were being dragged in…”

Illya nodded.  He had been unconscious at the time.  

“So, what do we owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”

“I overhead my father talking with a man called Khan.  He works for someone…”

“THRUSH.” Illya muttered, back at the window.  “Probably trying to negotiate for safe passage through your country.”

“At a very unpleasant cost I am afraid.”  Her hands were busy with her throbe, brushing the fabric of the traditional garment nervously.

“And that would be… you?” Napoleon knew that women were bartered here with less flourish than cattle.   

She nodded and looked about to burst into tears…  “And you are to entertainment for the wedding festivities.”

“I somehow get the impression they aren’t interested in our singing and dancing,” Napoleon said to his partner and Illya sighed, resting his head against the bars.

“Not likely.”  Illya stared back out at the night.  

“I… do not wish to go with him.”  Sofia moved closer to Napoleon, her hands fluttering like nervous birds around a cat.  “He frightens me… and I…”

“You what?”  Napoleon reached out to capture her hands with his and eased her down onto the straw where he’d been sleeping.   He touched her face, realizing that he was probably the first man to have had the privilege without facing certain death… what was he saying?  His death had already been proclaimed.

“I am so ashamed.  I took certain… steps to make myself appear… unacceptable. But this man, this horrible Kahn says that THRUSH has a way… I did not understand much of what he said.”

“Illya?”

“Some new technique they have been squawking about for a few months now.  It wouldn’t hurt you to actually read some of the encoded reports.”

“I thought that was your job.  So, what Khan is suggesting, can it be done?”

“Scientifically, I suppose, but I question the need or practicality, especially in America’s current atmosphere of sexual revolution.  To be with another person is not a sin.”

“It is here… if they find me unspoiled, I will be forced to go with him.”  She sighed, one worthy of Illya.  “I do not wish to go with him.”

“I don’t believe this,” Illya muttered.  “Your luck, Napoleon.”

“You’re a couple of steps ahead of me, partner.”

“The young lady is requesting your services…”

“Me?”  Napoleon tried not to look too stunned or too pleased.

 “I know that to come to you is…unconventional and forward and I cannot take what is not freely offered, but I had hoped…”

“And what do we get out of it if he agrees?”  Illya left the window to join them, kneeling close to her.

“Your freedom.”    Sofia studied the blond. “Just as I will have mine.”

“But won’t they kill you if they find that you aren’t a virgin?”

“I would happily die to avoid being chatteled to that abomination… but I understand if there is another…”  She looked truly miserable as she drew her arms around her chest.

Napoleon brushed her hair from her face.  “No, there’s not another… technically speaking.”  He studied Illya.  They both paid much higher prices in bids for their freedom and the girl was lovely… and to take a virgin.

She glanced up hopefully and then her face fell at his expression.  She looked from one to the other almost frantically, her eyes tearing.

“Sofia, what’s wrong?”

“Your refusal.”

“I’m not refusing, Sofia, far from it.”

“But I had thought with your partner… you were… hesitant…”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made love with Illya in the room or even in the same bed.”

“You?” She glanced over at Illya and he shook his head ruefully.

“I don’t take virgins.”

“Why?”

“If you saw him naked, you’d know,” Napoleon murmured, his voice dropping slightly as he brushed her cheek with his thumb.  “However, technically, afterwards, she wouldn’t be… “

Sofia spun to Illya.  “It would offer even more authentication...”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard it called that,” Napoleon said.  “Sofia, you do know what you’re asking us to do?”

“Yes…”

“And you are fine with that?”

“Yes…but I do understand if your culture and your principles forbid such a thing.”  She reached into a pocket of her throbe and withdrew a key.  “Your freedom is assured either way. “  She placed the key on the straw.

“Well, far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Napoleon murmured to his partner.  “Illya.”

“We’ll see… she’s very young.”

“I’m twenty three, well past the age of marriage for I was deemed unsuitable because I was not intact.”

Napoleon smiled gently at her.  “And you’re here willingly?”

“Very much so.”

He pulled her close to kiss her and she struggled for a moment.  “What’s wrong?”

“The sex… intercourse…”  She looked confused.  “I thought it was first…”

“Only if you are in much more of a hurry than I am.  I prefer to start with the kissing… it’s more pleasant this way.”  Napoleon kissed her again, working his mouth on hers.  After a moment, she pulled away and glanced at Illya through lowered eyelids. 

“And you?  Do you kiss as well?”  Illya grinned at Napoleon and slid in place, as Napoleon moved lower, brushing Sofia’s hair from her neck.  Illya leaned closer, holding her face in place with hands the size of her head.  He traced her lips with just the tip of his tongue.  Instinctively she opened her mouth and Illya took advantage, sliding his tongue just barely in, waiting for her response.  She sighed and he continued for a moment longer before abandoning her mouth for the opposite side of her neck.

“Better, I think.” Illya murmured, nuzzling her ear.

Napoleon had eased them down on the straw and slipped one of his hands up along Sofia’s leg, fingertips just touching her skin.  He was slowly drawing her skirt up higher on her thighs and she trembled.

“Trust me, Sofia, I won’t hurt you…”  Napoleon’s mouth began to follow his fingers’ trail.

Impulsively and almost shyly, she reached for Illya, turning his face back to hers.  He smiled and kissed her again.

“Oh my God,” Napoleon murmured from his position between her legs.  That broke the kiss between his partner and the woman.  “Sofia, what did they do to you?”

“What?” She looked confused from one man to the other.

“Illya, she’s been…

“Cut,” Illya spat out the word as if it tasted bad.  “It’s a common practice here, Napoleon, haven’t you ever slept with a Middle Eastern woman before?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“I don’t understand,” Sofia looked from one man to the other. “Does this mean…?  You won’t?”

“Why would anyone do that to a young girl?”

“Ask yourself the same question,” Illya said, drawing Sofia back to him.  “You’re as cut as she is, in my opinion.”

“What?”

“You were circumcised.  It’s the same thing in my book.”  Illya worked the zipper down on Sofia’s throbe, sliding the fabric from her shoulders.  

“No, it’s not.”

“Did they ask you your permission?”

“I was a newborn.”  Napoleon sat back on his haunches.  “This is wrong.”

“Absolutely, my friend, as was yours.”  Illya reached out, caught Napoleon’s head and pulled him close to rest their foreheads together.  “But perhaps this is an argument best saved for another day.”  Illya glanced to the door.  “The night will not last forever.”

Napoleon nodded and resumed his position between Sofia’s legs.  He eased them farther apart and leaned in, drawing the tip of his tongue over her damaged clitoris.  She let out a little squeak and Napoleon glanced up at her.  Illya smiled and leaned back, drawing Sofia backwards so that she rested upon him.  He kissed her neck gently as he fondled her breasts and rubbed himself against her ass, a slow, purposeful move.

“Oh,” was all that Sofia was able to verbalize as she arched back against Illya.  He spread his legs and hooked them over hers, keeping them wide spread for his partner.   Napoleon licked and sucked, using first one finger and then two, easing them into Sofia’s tight passage.  She wiggled, sighing, her hands clutching Illya’s thighs as Napoleon worked his magic on her.

Napoleon took one last long lick and sat back, unfastening his pants and easing his zipper down.

Sofia’s eyes widened at the sight of what Napoleon figured was probably her first penis.  Instinctively, she pressed back against Illya.  “It’s so big.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Illya whispered and he lowered his mouth to her neck, his eyes on Napoleon.  Napoleon positioned himself and nodded.  As he thrust in slowly, Illya bit and Sofia gasped.

“Ow,” she whimpered in protest, but trapped between two male bodies, there was very little room for escape.

Illya licked the spot where he’d bitten her.  “Shh, it’ll feel very right soon.”

And he was right.  Within a few moments, Sofia felt herself relax, stretching to accommodate the man’s girth and length.  The next thrust was less painful and a moment later, she was moving in cadence with Napoleon, sighing as Illya slid his hand between their bodies, stroking her damaged clitoris.

When Napoleon’s breath caught and he suddenly stopped, her eyes grew wide. “I…  I can feel you.”  

Napoleon thrust again and Sofia’s mouth opened and her breath caught.  Illya’s fingers stilled, his breathing harsh in her ear. 

“Oh…” she gasped, feeling herself contract and throb.  A sweet warm feeling started to spread from her toes up her body to the top of her head and she smiled happily.

“Oh, Mr. Solo, that was… incredible.

“Napoleon.” he corrected. “I think we’ve progressed to a first-name basis here,” Napoleon said, brushing her hair from her face.  “Consider yourself no longer a virgin,” Napoleon dropped down to cover her body with his, kissing her as she came down from her climax.  “How are you holding up, partner mine?”

“Barely.” Illya’s voice was tight.  “Sofia, if you are sure, then the time is now. If not, then I need…”

“I know what you need,” Napoleon murmured, rolling and taking Sofia with him, off of Illya, giving the man some much needed freedom.  Immediately, Illya’s hand reached for his pants, undoing the zipper and letting his penis spring free.  He was panting.

Napoleon moved slightly, helping Sofia to her feet and then positioning her over Illya’s dick. Sofia nodded understandingly and lowered herself, biting her bottom lip as Illya’s penis took up residence in her slick vagina.  She squeezed her eyes shut at the fresh burst of pain as Illya stretched her even more than Napoleon.  He wasn’t as long, but his girth was more and he knew the agony he would cause if he started to thrust.

“Don’t move,” Illya ordered, as much to her as himself, as she came to rest against his pubic bone.  “Just…be… still.”

Napoleon’s hands were moving over her, caressing her breasts, nibbling at her neck, distracting her from her more immediate discomfort.

“Rock for me,” Illya said, feeling her finally relaxing around him.  “As if you were riding a camel.”  Sofia thought for a moment and began to move and Illya groaned.  Immediately, she stilled.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked, looking frantically from his sweat-flecked face to Napoleon’s.

“Not yet,” Illya ground out and Napoleon grinned.  Illya placed his hands on her waist, encouraging her to move again and faster.

“Oh.” Sofia’s voice hit a higher pitch as she came down just right and hit her G spot.   She started moving faster, establishing a rhythm that was hers alone.  Then she froze and shuddered as she climaxed again, this one just as intense as the first.

Illya started to move now, his eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed. Napoleon smiled and leaned down, settling his mouth on the pale skin of Illya’s neck.  At the same time, he slid his hands beneath Illya’s shirt, finding his nipples.

Illya thrust one more time, nodded and Napoleon applied pressure with both fingers and mouth, pinching and biting as Illya cried out, holding Sofia in place as he slammed up into her.

Sofia watched the sight, spellbound as Napoleon eventually removed his hands from beneath Illya’s shirt.  Illya caught one of the hands, and kissed it, settling it upon his shoulder.

She started to climb off, her face screwed up in pain.  Instead, Illya caught her and drew her down against him, keeping himself fully sheathed in her.  “Give yourself a minute,” he kissed her softly.  “It will be easier then.”

“Are you all right?” Napoleon stretched out beside his partner.

“I’m a little sore,” she admitted.  “It hurt more than I thought it would.”  She felt Illya slip from her body and sighed, relaxing more fully now.  

“Now what will you do?”

“Wait for the tests in the morning and pray for merciful justice.”   She stood, her legs slightly wobbly.

“You should give yourself a chance to rest.”  Napoleon was up in an instant to steady her.  “You‘ve had quite the night.”

She stroked his face.  “And I will never be able to thank either of you adequately for that.”

“I’m feeling rather adequately thanked already,” Illya admitted, propping himself up on his elbows.  “Sofia, you can come with us.”

“No, my place is here, with my people.  I do not wish to leave them…”

“Then take care, little one.  Allah’s blessings on you.”  Napoleon escorted her to the door and she was gone a heartbeat later.  
  


~~~~~~~~

The tech glanced over at Khan, offering him a sheet of paper.  “The tests confirm it, sir.  She has been with at least two men.”  He glanced at the paper.  “Fairly recently too.”

He shook his head sadly, looking over at Al’Basraji.  “I’m afraid that my price has just gone up.”

Both men spun as a guard ran into the lab, his face beet red from exertion.  “The prisoners, they are gone.”

Khan’s face grew dark.  “And I am willing to bet I know the two men she was with.  Kill her.”

Al’Basraji nodded just once.  “Of course, she must be punished.  She has brought shame to herself and desecrated her family. Find my daughter and take her to the town square.  We will stone her for her crime.”

Sofia walked quietly, her head down, tears streaming down her face.  Not that she regretted her actions.  She knew what her fate would be if her father so willed it.  It tore at her heart that he did so will it; that his pride was stronger than his love for his daughter.  

They led her roughly to the pole and bound her hands.  Around her were the people she had been reluctant to leave, now they were eager to see her die, their hands clutching stones, blood stained stones that were kept for one purpose and one purpose alone.  

Custom dictated that the one shamed cast the first stone and for that purpose, Al’Basraji had picked out a round, baseball-sized stone.  He drew back and a bullet caught it, ripping it from his grip as he cried out in pain.  

Khan spun and attempted to throw his, only to catch a bullet in his shoulder.  He screamed and dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.

“Anyone else care to try,” Napoleon called out.  Illya settled the rifle on his shoulder, shifting from one target to the next.  “You might get lucky and he might miss next time… but probably not.  He’s funny that way.”

Behind them, more men were moving, UNCLE agents, and they came in swiftly, targeting THRUSH agents and any other man foolish enough to reach for a weapon.  

Sofia looked up at them, both men framed against the sun, and wondered if this is how a fair maiden felt to be rescued from a dragon.

 

Sofia walked into the office, her skirt making a pleasant swishing sound as she walked.  Her heels clicked on the tile of the floor and she smiled at both sounds, new sounds to her.  From the round conference table, both Napoleon and Illya turned to face her.

She went first to Napoleon, exchanging a hug and a kiss before moving to Illya.  He escorted her to a seat and she sat, tucking in her skirt around herself.

“How are you settling in?”

“It’s very… different here. “  She leaned closer.  “They have such strange underwear here.  This belt that women wear… um, a garter belt, I think it is called?”

“You’re wearing a garter belt?”  Illya’s eyes dipped down and a sly smile crept onto his lips.

“Down, boy,” Napoleon ordered.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.  “We thought you might like to have this.  Just in case your days get rough.”

She smiled, happy to receive a gift.  She opened it up and giggled.  Setting the box down, she pulled the necklace free and held it up.  “Oh,” she said, examining the small diamond encrusted ‘o’ and ‘h.’  “This is lovely, but I shall never forget what both of you did for me.”  She fastened the necklace about her neck, resting her hand upon it.  “I wish there was some way I could repay you.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could come up with something… suitably appropriate.”  Napoleon held her at arm’s length to examine the necklace.  “Beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she dropped her gaze to the table and then back up.  “But I think my boyfriend would have something to say about that.”

“Boyfriend?”  Napoleon looked at Illya as if the Russian was behind the whole thing.

“A very nice boy I met at the corner store.  He’s very helpful, but,” she leaned closer again.  “He’s very naïve and I’m having to teach him about everything.”  She grinned wickedly as she stood and started to leave, pausing to wave over her shoulder. “Everything.”   And with that, she was gone.

Napoleon sighed and shook his head sadly.  “Why do I have a feeling we’ve created a monster?”

Illya smirked and returned to the report he was reading.  “That’s all right, Napoleon, but you still have me and my offer is always open...”

Napoleon rested his chin in the palm of his propped up hand and groaned.  “Wonderful…”


End file.
